


Paperback Fantasy

by anemic_cinema



Series: May Masturbation Challenge [6]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Romance, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality sucks, so Maggie retreats into a fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paperback Fantasy

It was her eyes that made Maggie feel weak. Not just because of their pale, icy color, but because they were so troubled. It made her want to know the blonde stranger that was now a guest on the farm. It was those eyes and that jawline, the way it was so grimly set. It made Maggie think of ridiculous romantic scenarios, things out of the bad faux-gilt covered paperbacks her mother used to read. 

They were in boxes in the attic now, but Maggie sometimes sneaked them down to her, devouring them like pieces of candy. Guilt-inducing but sweet, with titles that were laughably bad and stories that were full of rapey scenarios. Ladies being ravished against their will by handsome strangers. For Maggie though, being ravished by her handsome stranger would be more than welcome.

So at the end of the day, she laid in her bed in her childhood room. In the house where she grew up, but now didn't feel like a home so much as a fortress against the outside world. Maggie laid there and her hands wandered over her body. She stroked her breasts thinking of Andrea accosting her against one of the trees outside in the dark. She pulled at her nipples as she imagined those blue-green eyes looking at her with desire, looking at her like no one else had in a long time. Like one of those paperback scenarios, except that she would be willing, even begging for it. She wasn't proud like those pretty fictional heroines. Andrea wouldn't have to seduce her. The blonde could have her just by looking at her.

By the time she was thinking of Andrea's lips crushing against hers and her tongue in her mouth, Maggie's fingers were dipping into her juices and teasing her clit. Except in her mind they were the blonde's fingers, moving slow, then fast. Pushing her up against that tree and fucking her just the way she needed. There'd be no talk about heaving bosoms or damp mounds with Andrea. No, the blonde looked like she'd be direct. She'd ask Maggie if she wanted her to fuck her, she'd comment on how wet her pussy was, and how nice it felt. She'd tell her her body was gorgeous, and how much she wanted her.

Being wanted. That was something she missed.

Maggie's breath came out in wheezes. Andrea would probably cover her mouth with kisses to keep her quiet, but right now she didn't have that. So she turned her head, bit down on the corner of her pillow and moved her hips in time with her fingers. 

She had no idea how the other woman would do it, if she'd be gentle or rough. Her imagination ran rampant with thoughts of it. What would be better? Slow, tender lovemaking full of sweet sighs and soft caresses? Or hard merciless fucking, something quick and in secret, muffling their cries by biting each other's flesh?

This time the brunette settled on rough, and she thought of Andrea's fingers deep inside of her while she begged to be fucked. Her toes curled and her cunt throbbed, her orgasm leaving her face hot and her mind foggy. She bet the women who wrote those stupid books never had it like that, otherwise they wouldn't be writing about men. Maggie had never met a man that could make her feel as good as a woman could, even if the woman was just in her imagination.

Maybe tomorrow she'd talk to the blonde, and try and figure out if there was any chance of making these fantasies come true. In the meantime, it was enough to ride the high of the orgasm with thoughts of Andrea kissing her, and holding her close. It was enough, because as long as she was thinking about that she wasn't thinking of anything else.


End file.
